Abstract
With the purpose of furthering lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, and allies/agender/asexual (LGBTQA) dialogue in music education and to improve choral instruction for trans(gender) students, this multiple narrative case study explores the experiences of trans students in secondary school choral music programs in the United States. The emergent research design employed narrative and ethnographic techniques to honor and highlight voices of the three participants. The connection or lack thereof between voice and gender identity was different for each student. The policies of the students’ school districts, school officials, choral programs, and state music organizations shaped and influenced the participants as they navigated their trans identity within the high school choral context. Mentors (including teachers) and other “important others” helped these students as they traversed their gender journeys. From this research, it emerges that schools and choral programs can make policy changes to better serve trans youth, and more professional development and incorporation of (trans)gender issues is necessary for choral music educators.
In recent years, there has been rapid progress toward equal rights for the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, and allies/agender/asexual (LGBTQA) 1 community, most notably in North America and Europe. 2 Yet, even as laws and policies on marriage equality and anti-discrimination become more prevalent for gays and lesbians, people who identify as transgender (trans) 3 face discrimination (Grant et al., 2010; Harrison et al., 2012), violence (Stotzer, 2009), and policing of their bathroom use (Schilt & Westbrook, 2015). In addition, trans youth are coming out at younger and younger ages (Beemyn & Rankin, 2011; Grossman & D’Augelli, 2006; Grossman et al., 2006). Therefore, more and more public school choral teachers will work with trans youth—and soon. Many trans students face bullying and harassment in school (Greytak et al., 2009). The burgeoning LGBTQA literature in music education has focused almost exclusively on lesbians and gays, with little or no mention of transgender viewpoints. In this study, I explore the musical lives and experiences of three trans students in high school choral programs.
As a precursor, it is important to understand gender vocabulary (Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, n.d.). Gender identity is one’s inner “gender compass”—how one experiences one’s gender internally in one’s own context. Gender expression refers to how one enacts this gender identity in the world. This may include clothing, gestures, manner of speaking, and so on. Gender roles are culturally contextual attributes pursuant to masculinity and femininity accepted as normal in a given context. For example, in modern American society, girls and women are expected to be feminine, and many consider men who exhibit feminine characteristics abnormal (Butler, 1999; Korabik, 1982).
The term transgender originally was meant to “distinguish people who cross sexes by changing one’s bodies (transsexual) from people who cross genders by changing one’s clothing, behavior, and grooming (transgender)” (Wilchins, 2004, p. 26), but is now used more broadly and may include a diverse group including those who identify as (among others) transexual, transgender, transvestite, gender fluid, genderqueer, agender, gender non-conforming, and non-binary. Cisgender denotes a person who is not transgender—one whose assigned birth sex and gender identity match.
Review of selected literature
Several music education scholars have explored trans issues in music education. Bartolome (2016) and Bartolome and Stanford (2017) explored the experiences of Melanie, a trans preservice music teacher who experienced transphobic rhetoric from her undergraduate choral director and did not feel her voice would fit in a college choir. She said, “There wasn’t any room for a female bass. I talked to people and they said, ‘You’re going into music but you’re transgender. How can you rationalize that?’” (Bartolome, 2016, pp. 34–35). Melanie also experienced much anxiety about how primary and secondary school students in field experience would react to a teacher who was trans. A 2013 study by Nichols examined the musical life of Rie/Ryan, a gender fluid 4 music student in the American Midwest. Rie/Ryan’s school was “unprepared for [the] presence” 5 of a trans student: “Rie rejects the notion that her sense of safety stemmed from any conscious effort on the part of her music teachers. According to Rie, the band and choir teachers ‘never brought [my gender expression] up’” (p. 268). It is worth noting that Rie’s teachers did not discuss trans issues nor did they choose to help them. 6 Though Nichols’s (2013) study is a good first step, there is still a large gap in the literature on trans issues in vocal and choral music specifically. If vocal and gender identities are linked (e.g., Elorriaga, 2011; Moore, 2008), it seems prudent to explore the experiences of trans students in school choral music programs.
Silveira and Goff (2016) explored the opinions of music educators about teaching trans students. They surveyed American inservice music educators (N = 612) about their perceived readiness to teach trans students. Data analysis revealed that teachers felt “fairly positive attitudes on average” (p. 12) about trans people. Silveira and Goff’s (2016) data are encouraging—but also include some areas of concern. For example, 40.1% of teachers disagreed or strongly disagreed with the statement, “Transgender students in choir should be permitted to sing with a vocal part that aligns with their gender identity” (p. 11), indicating a lack of understanding about the connection (or lack thereof) between a singer’s voice and gender identity.
These studies focused on music education more broadly, rather than considering trans issues in choral settings. Trans issues in choral music may be intensified because the human voice and one’s identity may be linked (Faulkner & Davidson, 2004; Lipson, 2013; Monks, 2003). The voice may be tied to one’s gender identity and gender expression, and can be an important part of one’s gender (Bond, 2017; Edwards, 2009). American choral programs exist within a highly gendered school environment (Pascoe, 2007). School choral music in the 21st century can be gendered in many ways—consider “men’s” and “women’s” choirs, choir dresses and tuxedoes, gendered rehearsal language, and lyrics portraying heteronormative situations. It may be difficult for trans students in a school and a program that may continually reinforce cisgender-centric (the tacit assumption that everyone is cisgender) ethos and heteronormative attitudes (Aguirre, 2018; Miller, 2016). Many of the main tenets of these American school choral traditions have remained unquestioned (McBride, 2016; O’Toole, 1994, 1998; Palkki, 2015). Choral music educators can learn about the complexities of gender and how these intricacies play out in the choral classroom.
Few researchers have explored trans issues in the vocal/choral context. As a singer who identifies as female-to-male (FTM), Constansis (2008) chronicled his voice change process after beginning hormone replacement therapy, finding that the lower testosterone dose facilitated a change that was quite similar to that of an adolescent cisgender male. Edwards (2009) explored the voice changes and sense of social connectedness in a trans choral ensemble in Minneapolis/St. Paul, MN USA. Edwards found that because the chorus helped singers navigate their voice change process, the singers interviewed had “very personal relationships with the ensemble” (para. 6). Utilizing action research, Berglin (2014) chronicled the experiences of a former high school student who had transitioned from female-to-male, including this student’s issues of vocal range and musical identity in the context of high school choir:
. . . through better understanding and a willingness to work with the student instead of trying to “fit” him into a traditional choral “box,” the student thrived and found his place in the ensemble, as well as a better understanding of and agency for his vocal development. (Abstract)
With the intent to advance the dialogue surrounding LGBTQA issues in music education and to improve vocal/choral instruction for trans students, this multiple narrative case study explored the musical lives and lived experiences of trans students in U.S. secondary school choirs. Specifically, (a) How do transgender students navigate their gender identity in the school choral context and (b) Were transgender choir students supported by their choral teachers, choral peers, and school administrators? If so, how? If not, how? During data collection, it became clear that school, district-level, and music organization policies played a major role in these students’ experiences. Therefore, I added an emergent research question: (c) How do policy approaches taken by each school and school district influence the gender journey of transgender choral students?
Method
Design
This narrative study (Clandinin & Connelly, 2000) was guided by an intrinsic case study design that allowed me to focus on presenting stories of three students who represent rich cases (Stake, 1995). I also used ethnographic techniques that helped to place the participants in their unique contexts—namely within schools, school choral programs, and the communities/states/regions in which they lived. I did a cross-case analysis to examine themes that ran through all of the stories as recommended by Fraser (2004). 7
Researcher’s lens
I approach this work as a cisgender man who has been “out” as gay for over 20 years. I have several trans friends and knew one trans male student at the high school at which I taught. In the spring of 2014, I met my ex-boyfriend, who is a trans guy. 8 Knowing my partner’s journey and story made me think about trans issues in a deeper way. Learning about the difficult moments of his gender journey helped me see how challenging daily life can be, at times, for persons questioning their gender identity or living outside of the gender binary.
For me, work on LGBTQA issues is delicate, personal, and challenging. Writing about and researching trans experiences can be especially sensitive. Some have questioned whether study of trans people’s experiences by cisgender researchers is appropriate (e.g., Namaste, 2000; Serano, 2007; Wilchins, 1997)—an argument that I understand. I believe that it is possible for cisgender researchers, remaining ever aware of their privilege, to bring attention and respect to trans experiences and issues. While this power differential cannot be erased, the use of a narrative design helps participants to speak for themselves and reveal their reality in their own way—shining a light on things that may have remained uncovered. This work often has been intimidating, frightening, and delicate, but I do not believe that these feelings should stop me, a sentiment echoed by Elliot (2010).
Participants
I used convenience sampling (Patton, 2001), locating American trans high school choral students who were willing to participate in this study through choral teachers, professional colleagues, and friends. The first participant is a relative of a professional colleague. The second participant’s choral teacher approached me after a national conference presentation, and the third is the child of a singer in a community chorus that was directed by a colleague.
Sara [pronouns: she/her/hers]. Sara was an 18-year old high school senior in River Glen, a small town (population 5,000) near a mid-sized Midwestern capital city. Later in the data collection, she was a college freshman. Sara was a section leader in her high school’s chamber choir and was chosen to sing in Regional, State, and All-State honor choirs. 9
Jon [pronouns: he/him/his]. Short, confident, and (admittedly) loud, Jon was a 17-year-old high school senior at the time of data collection. He had always lived in Landerstown (population 3,400), in a suburban area on the Eastern seaboard of the United States. Jon sang in a select choir and was involved in the gay-straight alliance 10 at Landerstown High School. At the time of our first interview, Jon was working on his college applications.
Skyler [pronouns: they/them/their]. At the time of data collection, Skyler was a junior at Parkton High School (PHS) in a suburb outside of a medium sized Midwestern city (population 7,200). They changed their name legally the summer before data collection began, but had used this new name both in and out of school before the legal change.
Data collection and analysis
I visited each student over the course of one school year; 11 and semi-structured interviews lasted between 20 and 90 min. 12 I collected data over the course of 12 months, traveling great distances to visit the participants multiple times—including a final trip to verify all transcript excerpts face-to-face. Data included fieldnotes from classroom observations (Emerson et al., 2011), transcripts from semi-structured interviews, and e-mail and text correspondence with participants. The observations were key in observing how these students interacted within the context of their school choral programs—for example, how they navigated their gender identities, their interactions with peers and teachers, and what their body language said about their experiences. Following advice from Emerson et al. (2011), I took notes during field observations that I converted into fieldnotes soon after observation (it was important that this work happen soon after the observations to stave off the inevitable pitfalls of memory loss). The process of creating fieldnotes was a chance to transform jottings that would be meaningless to an outsider into thick descriptions (Geertz, 1973) that helped elucidate insights about participants and/or the field site, and also illuminated aspects of reflexivity. I conducted interviews with important adults in these students’ lives (e.g., choral teachers, school counselors, parents) and wrote field notes when I observed participants in their high school choral classes. I observed each student three to six times and interviewed each five times. Interviews with “important others” occurred once or twice. I transcribed and coded interviews, then devised follow-up questions. My analysis of transcripts is inspired by a narrative analysis framework developed by Fraser (2004), who suggests that narrative inquirers follow seven phases of data collection and analysis: (a) hearing the stories, experiencing each other’s emotions; (b) transcribing the material; (c) interpreting individual transcripts; (d) scanning across different domains of experience; (e) linking “The Personal with the Political”; (f) looking for commonalities and differences among participants; and (g) writing academic narratives about personal stories.
Ethical concerns
I maintained the anonymity of all participants by using pseudonyms for all persons, places, and events in the study, including use of aliases in all transcripts and fieldnotes. Because trans identity is a sensitive and highly personal topic, I endeavored to maintain strong, meaningful relationships with the participants (Hydén, 2013). Participants reviewed and edited their interview transcripts in face-to-face meetings to ensure that I had not taken their words out of context (Patton, 2001). All three chose to make grammatical changes and all requested that I remove several quotations. In addition, colleagues with extensive qualitative research experience assisted with analysis triangulation by peer checking codes and themes (Lincoln & Guba, 1985).
Limitations
There are two main limitations for this study: sample and generalizability. All three participants are white, upper-middle-class students, thus limiting the breadth of this study. Trans people face multiple layers of oppression and/or intersectionality—our intersecting layers of identity including gender, race, immigration status, and socioeconomic status (Carter, 2014; Crenshaw, 1991). Although all the participants in this study identify as white, their experiences as trans people can be a first step in illuminating the journeys and experiences of those living outside the white, middle class, heteronormative, cisgender perspectives often highlighted in research discourses. This study yielded stories and experiences specific to these individual participants in their own contexts. Due to the lack of diversity and small sample size, the findings herein are not generalizable, but instead offer practical implications for choral educators (Bassey, 1999) which Patton (2001) termed “applied research.” Because many trans students are now disclosing their gender identities in middle and high school (or even earlier), it is my hope that choral music education practitioners glean useful information from this study.
Findings
“I’m a girl and I’m a bass and I own that”–Sara’s story
Sara began to disclose her trans identity in eighth grade, a process that continued through sophomore 13 year of high school, at which point she was more or less “totally out” at school. Her legal name change occurred before her third year of high school. Overall, Sara described her transition at school as “a very good one. I had very low expectations of a town this small and conservative and I was soundly surprised.”
Navigating gender in school choir
In her choral program, Sara continued to sing bass in a co-ed mixed choir during and after her transition, and asked Mr. Ames, the choir director, if she could wear a dress in performances. Mr. Ames agreed, but Sara also spoke with Mr. Calloway, the former principal:
My freshman year for the musical—I was in the chorus and I wore a dress and that was the first public “thing,” The summer and fall after that is when I did color guard
14
so that was the second step and then Mr. Calloway made me do both those things before I could wear a dress [for concerts].
Sara abided by these seemingly arbitrary regulations, and eventually was able to wear a dress in both high school concerts and the State Honors Choir. Sara displayed great agency throughout her disclosure process. She rarely was afraid to be direct and to ask for what she needed—a hallmark of her personality. Sara’s openness with adults, including her school guidance counselor, choral teachers, and honor choir conductors facilitated dialogue in the state in which she resides about inclusion of trans students in high school choral activities.
Voice
Sara reveled in the fact that her voice did not match the traditional male low voice, female high voice binary:
I’m a girl and I’m a bass and I own that. It makes me unique in the scope as far—as wide as [State Choral Organization] as a whole. Much earlier on in my transition, two, three years ago I thought, “well, I’m not supposed to like this,” but since the whole honors choir thing has happened, it’s become my signature.
Sara had support and mentorship from her choral teachers about which part she should sing. Although she once thought about singing soprano or alto, Mr. Thompson (her previous choral teacher) encouraged her to sing bass:
My sophomore year with Mr. Thompson, I talked about how my voice lessons were focused on falsetto, so I thought, “well, maybe I should just float and sing alto or something.” . . . Mr. Thompson said, “You should sing in the bass section.”
When asked if she was comfortable with this recommendation, Sara said, “Yeah. Because he was somebody that I respected and I figured he knew what he was doing. And he did.” Sara identified Mr. Thompson as a role model in several capacities, including for his outward support of her gender identity, 15 her vocal development, and her voice part assignment.
While reading and analyzing Sara’s statements, I realized I assumed that trans choral students would want to sing a voice part that matched their gender identity. When asked about people assuming that she would want to sing soprano or alto, Sara said matter-of-factly: “Yeah. Huh. I have the voice that I have. Nobody really assumes that [chuckles].” Broadening the conversation, Sara and I discussed how “gendered” choir can be:
Well I mean everyone has a voice part. There is more overlap than just me. We have Ben Finney in concert choir who is a small guy who sings alto and we have some alto ladies who can reach very low into the tenor range—but as far as the “ceremoniousness” (if that’s a word) of the uniforms and everything, people should be able to just—I mean, like, I subscribe to the binary but even in terms of people who don’t . . . well, I haven’t met people that couldn’t choose between a suit and a dress, so . . . I don’t know if I have enough perspective on that. But, I think as long as everyone’s comfortable, it still works.
Here, Sara demonstrated that it is not only trans students who can be marginalized by a non-normative voice part (Bond, 2017). She also highlighted the importance of uniforms as a visual gender identifier and the notion that some trans people still do “subscribe to the binary.” In other words, Sara acknowledged that not all trans people consider themselves somewhere between male and female. It also should be noted that the voice change for people who identify as MTF is different than the process for people who identify as FTM. At the time of data collection, Sara had not begun hormone replacement therapy. When and if she does begin taking estrogen, it will not influence her vocal folds, which have already lengthened due to puberty (Chaloner, 2000; Constansis, 2008; Edwards, 2009).
Honor choir experiences and policy
The emergent research question allowed me to explore how policies might impact choral students who identify as trans. Sara was selected for several honor choirs through her State Choral Organization. During these honor choir experiences, Sara sometimes faced challenges with conductors and coordinators who used incorrect pronouns. In these situations, Sara spoke up, informing the adults in charge about the pronouns and language that would make her feel most comfortable. In the following story about All-State Choir, Sara discussed “gendered” connotations of choral choreography:
In All-State back in May we did an arrangement of [American folk song] Skip to my Lou and they had us do some choreography things with the women doing one thing and the men doing another thing—for that, they actually said “tenors and basses do this and sopranos and altos do that” but you could tell that they were supposed to be “men and women” things to do, so I talked to the people on either side of me and did the women things to do.
This honor choir experience happened at a university town not far from Sara’s home; River Glen is close enough to this that she stayed at home and commuted. Sara stayed on campus at Regional State University (RSU) for All-State weekend, where she would later be a student:
Ms. Williams [honor choir coordinator] filled in Mr. Phelps [honor choir coordinator] about me so I will get a room to myself. There was no issue about that. Mr. Phelps e-mailed me and asked me if I wanted a specific roommate but I don’t know this year’s people that well.
This story highlights the many layers of genderism (Bilodeau, 2009) that can exist in the choral environment and how trans students might feel uncomfortable in such situations.
In terms of the types of adjustments choral teachers need to make to accommodate trans students, Mr. Ames said,
I remember in those first couple of weeks, I made the mistake of saying, “ok guys, let’s go,” when I wanted my male voices—my low voices. At first it was just her correcting me, and then it was everyone: “Mr. Ames, we want ‘low voices’ not gender.” A challenge for me has been to try to remove the gender terminology from my vocabulary.
Her seat in the chamber choir in high school was on the edge of the soprano and bass sections so that she could sing bass while sitting next to a female soprano. This seating arrangement was a conscious choice on the part of Mr. Ames, and this idea was also implemented in the All-State Choir rehearsals.
Mr. Ames’ re-thinking of gender in the choral classroom has made him think more globally about safety for queer choral students (Garrett & Spano, 2017; Palkki & Caldwell, 2018):
I think transgender students are going to force choir directors to re-think some things that they do. [ . . . ] Singing is such a vulnerable art form and you have to be comfortable with who you are as [an] individual before you can truly open up. There is no hiding. Once you have done that, choir becomes like family and family accepts you no matter what.
Advice
Since the purpose of this study was to improve vocal/choral instruction for trans students, I asked each participant what they would like to tell choral teachers about working with you or another trans student. To this question, Sara reiterated the importance of mindful language use:
The short answer is, when you’re talking about voices, don’t say “men and women” and when you’re talking about “men and women,” don’t say voices. “Men and women” applies when people are choosing tuxes or dresses, voices apply for just about everything else in that context, although since moving to Regional [honor choir] I’ve met and become friends with non-binary folks, so . . . One of my friends, they present feminine and they’re fine with that. They just are not fine with being called a girl. They use they/them pronouns . . . But, I would imagine that when they call for women to be fitted for dresses, they probably feel the same way I do when they refer to basses and tenors as “men.”
Sara’s statement demonstrates the diversity that exists under the “trans umbrella.” Also, it shows that, for her, words in rehearsal carry great emotional weight. More telling, however, was her advice for a hypothetical trans girl in choir:
I would say: Figure out who you are, become confident in that; even if you’re not confident in that, stick to that idea. Put on the face of being confident about that idea and it will manifest itself and build a diplomatic relationship with your teachers and your administration and they’ll be willing to help you get where you need to be.
“It’s the moving on part”–Jon’s Story
Negotiating gender at school and in choir
Jon first came out as a lesbian at school at age 12. This was not received well: “I got bullied because I came out pretty early. I came out when I was 12 years old . . . there was gossip about it and people would ask me about it like I was a science experiment.” In middle school choir, Jon’s choir teacher did not openly discuss Jon’s sexuality, he did make vocal accommodations that helped Jon feel at ease as he navigated use of his “non-normative” voice:
I had a really great choir director in middle school,
16
and so he gave me parts that went with my voice. I was an alto, I guess, all through middle school. And I did the middle school musicals [ . . . ] [My middle school choir teacher would] give me male roles. Not “male roles,” but roles that had lower vocal parts because he knew that I could sing—I just couldn’t sing high. [ . . . ] I always felt comfortable in my voice, you know? I was never scared of the fact or embarrassed about the fact that my voice was lower.
Jon said that he began his gender transition at the end of his second year of high school but it wasn’t until final year that he “finally had my teachers calling me ‘Jon.’”
Just before his final year of high school, Jon and his parents met with the principal and the high school guidance counselor at school. After this meeting, everyone at school, including faculty, was encouraged to use male pronouns and the name “Jon.” This meeting was a pivotal event in Jon’s transition; his parents and school officials decided to work together in moving forward. Jon had many positive things to say about the school community in which he navigated his trans identity:
The school community? Oh, the choir kids are great—everyone’s always been great about it. The school, too. There’s been two or three incidences [of bullying or harassment], but I have to say, this has to be the best school community out there.
Mr. Mullins and All-State Choir
At the high school, Jon met Mr. Mullins, the choir teacher, who always seemed to be a step ahead of Jon in terms of gender discoveries and disclosures. As Jon said, “It’s weird—he made me a tenor before I knew and he put the suit [uniform] option on the table before I knew . . . He’s got this little intuition . . . and has always given me a little push.” In addition to the encouragement to sing tenor, Mr. Mullins also allowed Jon to wear “male” concert attire, even before he “came out” as a trans male. Inspired by the emergent research question about policy, I discovered that Mr. Mullins advocated for Jon with the state music educators association regarding All State Choir, in which Jon requested to sing tenor. When the reaction of the organizers was negative, Mullins recalled that
Someone said, “call the lawyer. Call the [state] MEA [music educators association] lawyer.” And that conversation happened and the lawyer was like, “you can’t say no and while you’re at it, take out the ‘boys can only do this and girls can only do this’ policy because if you’re ever taken to court, you’re going to lose, and you’re going to have a lot of bad press in the process.”
Mr. Mullins felt a strong need to advocate for Jon’s right to sing a voice part that matched both his range and his gender identity.
Voice and gender identity
During Jon’s first year in high school choir, he was assigned to sing alto, but sang tenor at times: “by spring of my sophomore year I was just singing all the tenor—all the guy parts. If he [Mr. Mullins] tried to get me to sing an alto part I would just tell him no.” Mr. Mullins was open to Jon singing tenor:
[His first] year, Jon was Jane, and she [sic] was in chorus, and singing tenor even her [sic] [first] year, because there was really no head voice, and [he] had the lower voice, so I was like “Ok, sing tenor,” and I think that’s what happened over at the middle school as well. So, I was like, “Yeah, you can continue on the same voice part, that’s fine.”
Jon’s ability to sing “guy parts” in choir is part of his performance and discursive construction of male gender (Butler, 1999). Jon was quite forceful in making explicit his desire to sing tenor.
Jon identified close ties between his vocal and gender identities. Thus, he spent a long time purposely lowering his voice in an attempt to be “stealth”
17
in public, which caused vocal health problems:
I used to not speak this high but I have nodes now, and I got [nodes] because when I came out to “pass” in public I pushed my voice really deep, which, you know, obviously caused friction in my vocal folds and now I have nodes.
Mr. Mullins was helpful in getting Jon to see an ENT who diagnosed these vocal issues and also monitored his vocal health:
He works with me on ways that I can sing the low notes that I need to sing without constantly damaging my voice. I drop out when we get to low parts now. Low parts that I can hit or that I like to prove that I can hit, I step back, and I’m like, “No, I can’t do it,” because it’s bad for me.
Jon mentioned the encouragement from his vocal specialist, Dr. Endroth, to raise the pitch of his speaking voice:
Dr. Endroth said that I need to bring up my voice an octave . . . it’s hard. Because I already look like I’m twelve. So as much as Dr. Endroth is like, “That doesn’t define your gender: your voice doesn’t define your gender.” Of course it defines your gender . . . But I know that I need to, so I try to, and it’s obviously a lot easier and helpful . . . I don’t think I’d be as strong or as confident of a singer if I didn’t sing a male voice part. I really think it gives me confidence to be able to sing and to want to sing. I don’t think I’d want to sing if I was still an alto [ . . . ] As much as there’s no connection and it doesn’t define who you are or define you, it’s the same as how I dress or how I wear my hair. It’s an appearance aspect of myself.
In our interviews, Jon spoke naturally—pushing his voice lower now and again—in what I’d consider a low range for a trans male not on hormone therapy. He had been able to develop norms about his gender identity in the context of high school, meaning that he was able to develop his voice as an actor and singer while transitioning at school. Jon’s vocal health was one of the concerns of the teachers in his state’s music educators association who sponsor the All-State Choir.
Advice
In our conversations, I expressed dismay that there are choral teachers who do not accept the true gender identity of their students, to which Jon said: “It’s bullying. I think that’s a large problem. How can we expect students to respect students if there’s bullying and intolerance at the adult level in schools?” His advice for other trans choral students was
I guess not being afraid. You’re going to get backlash and you’re going to be hated by some people and I know that there’s certain limits that a person can go to protect themselves and make sure that they’re safe. But, just going out there and finding the support, because it is out there.
And his advice for choral teachers:
Acting like trans students are “an issue” that need to be addressed rather than just another student with another situation is, I think, the main problem . . . It’s the moving on part. It’s addressing it: “OK here’s the situation, this is what we’re going to do about it,” and then continuing to just treat that student as if they’re any other choir student. And I think that’s so important that schools have policies with it. Not only schools just having broad policies about it but especially music policies. In the same sense that bathroom policies need to be a thing, music policies need to be a thing.
“Letting my voice be how it is”—Skyler’s story
Negotiating gender in school choir
In middle school, Skyler began to use their new name. Their freshman year of high school, Skyler’s birth name was still in the school’s record system but their parents made a request to individual teachers asking that they use Skyler. They began their freshman year requesting that teachers use “Skyler” in class. In our first interview, Skyler clarified,
I’m agender . . . I think gender is kind of dumb and I really don’t see the need to have one. [ . . . ] Originally “agender” wasn’t my original label that I was using. I went through a couple of things. Maybe at first I was like, “Maybe I’m gender fluid or something because sometimes I still feel like a [birth sex] and I don’t really mind.” [ . . . ] I changed labels a lot because once I started, I started realizing more and more about it.
As of the spring of 2016, Skyler had only requested that their family, girlfriend, and certain close friends use they/them/their pronouns. They still struggled with pronouns and how to feel about people using them: “Sometimes I feel like it would be easier if I used binary pronouns, but I really don’t want to. I know some non-binary people just end up using he/him or she/her anyway, but that just doesn’t work for me.”
Voice and gender roles
Of the three schools in which I spent time, only PHS had “gendered choirs”—two curricular treble choirs and one after-school tenor/bass choir. Skyler started their high school singing career in one of these single gender ensembles but then transitioned into two of the co-ed groups, including the Chamber Singers. Skyler did not seem to feel an overwhelming connection between their voice and their gender:
I’m the type of person that is comfortable with my voice. [ . . . ] Because I’m not working toward presenting as a specific gender—I’m not trying to get people to look at me and think I’m male or female, so it makes some things difficult, because I’m not sure what I actually want out of my transition sometimes . . . But, it does give me a little more freedom . . . because I’m not working toward a specific presentation ideal, I feel like I’m a little more comfortable just letting my voice be how it is.
The comfort Skyler felt expressing their voice “how it is” may have stemmed from the supportive music educators with whom they’ve worked. Skyler also stated that “A lot of theatre is gendered like that, especially musical theatre, because society genders voice. And the ideal would be for voices not to be gendered, but you know, that’s a difficult place to get to.” This statement may be referring to the idea that the sound of one’s voice helps in attributing a gender.
A choir teacher from an older generation
It became clear to me on my first visit to PHS that Mr. Cooper, Skyler’s choir teacher, was masterful at creating strong, appropriate relationships with students. Though not stated publicly, Mr. Cooper’s open door policy catered to all students—including those who identify as LGBTQA. He confirmed this by saying, “I mean, I don’t care. I love them. And when you love you don’t care . . . it’s not very complicated.” Skyler seemed to think that Mr. Cooper’s office had been a safe place for LGBTQA youth to be open and honest. However, despite this perception, Skyler chose not to disclose their transgender identity to Mr. Cooper and had not requested that he use they/them/their pronouns in class. Later, Skyler had a conversation with Mr. Cooper about their trans identity and I was curious to know if this disclosure had changed their relationship. Skyler said, “I don’t think anything about his perception of me has changed because he’s Mr. Cooper and he really likes me and I really like him, and it’s just kind of a non-issue in some ways.” Although the teacher was un-phased by this discussion, he still struggled with Skyler’s pronouns:
Mr. Cooper was saying, he’s going to learn and he’s going to use this as a learning experience to get better at it so that if he has other students. He hasn’t experienced anyone like me, or honestly anyone “out” as transgender in choir before. So, he’s going to learn from it.
For example, Mr. Cooper used the terms “men” and “women” in class, and Skyler discussed the idea that assigning genders to choral ensembles (e.g., “men’s choir”) may be problematic for trans students. However, Skyler understood why groups might be called such names:
I don’t think necessarily that the name should be changed, because I don’t know what they would change it to . . . I do think if you’re going to have a “women’s choir,” you have to accept trans women who sing tenor and bass, too. And if you’re going to have a “treble choir,” then you have to accept higher voiced men, like trans men, as well.
Overall, navigation of trans identity within the music program at PHS had been an uneventful process for Skyler. Likewise, policies did not affect Skyler directly because they were not publicly “out” and because they continued to wear the uniform that aligned with their assigned birth sex. Mr. Cooper continued to use pronouns that aligned with Skyler’s assigned birth sex and most people within the choral program would not have noticed any change from before their gender realization. Skyler did inquire about the possibility of wearing a different uniform, but initially Mr. Cooper did not seem open to that idea.
Advice
I asked Skyler what they would say to room full of choir teachers on the topic of including and honoring trans students in choir:
The first thing I would tell them it is that if a student talks to them about something that they don’t understand, don’t respond immediately . . . Don’t just go with your gut feeling. Ask questions, look it up online or wherever, ask other music teachers who might have dealt with this before (if you haven’t). Talk to the student . . . Can you change the way people stand? Can you give people an option for different uniforms? Can you make the uniform unisex? . . . I think most choir directors—most good choir directors—would agree that the program is about the students, not about you or about the way you want the choir to look. So, is the health of your students more important or is the fact that you have one person in a suit standing surrounded by a bunch of people in dresses more important? Is it the students’ comfort and health or the way it looks? And I think most good choir directors should stop and think about this and realize that the student comes first.
Discussion
The foundation of this study is the lived experiences and stories of Sara, Jon, and Skyler. The point was never to compare the three stories, but I did examine themes that ran through all of their stories. 18 The research questions for this study inquired how the students navigated their gender identity in choir and how teachers, schools, and organizations responded to these negotiations. Because there were similar experiences in all three stories, I will discuss several themes that appeared in all three stories: (a) name and legal logistics, (b) voice and gender identity, (c) relationships with choir teachers, and (d) policies.
Name and legal logistics
Sara and Skyler both navigated the logistics of legal name changes. On a personal level, being called by one’s real name can be an important part of identity development and social transition (e.g., Beemyn, 2005; Meyer, 2014; Sausa, 2005). Of the three participants, Jon was the only one without his name legally changed; thus, he was forced to confront his birth name on school rosters and even on honor choir programs and name tags. This is just one example of a logistical obstacle that cisgender students who do not change their name will likely never face.
Voice and gender identity
Monks (2003) indicates that one’s vocal identity is very closely tied to one’s sense of self and Lipson’s (2013) study with three trans singers indicates that “the voice plays an integral role in gender identity, and is connected to self-concept and expression” (p. viii). Data from this study support these notions and also suggest that the link between gender identity and vocal identity can be quite complicated.
The issue of a connection (or lack thereof) between one’s voice and gender identity is central in this study. Sara clearly saw little, if any, connection between her voice and her gender identity. She originally felt conflicted, but later came to see singing bass as her “signature.” Although Sara became quite comfortable with her voice, other people occasionally mis-gendered her because of it. Conversely, Jon felt a very strong connection between his voice and his gender identity. He said that he may not sing at all if he could not sing the “guy parts” that fit him vocally, socially, psychologically, and sociologically. Jon spent many years trying to lower his voice, which caused vocal damage that can be difficult to overcome—especially for someone who plans to pursue a future in performance. In contrast, Skyler said, “I’m the type of person that is comfortable with my voice.” Because being non-binary (agender) comes with no societally accepted blueprint for how one should speak, Skyler was presented with the possibility of simply accepting the voice that they have—a freedom not necessarily afforded to those who can feel pressure to match their gender with an “appropriately” feminine or masculine voice (Elorriaga, 2011; Faulkner & Davidson, 2004; Manovski, 2013; Zimman, 2014).
Relationships with choir teachers
All three participants had significant mentor figures who helped them navigate their trans identity. In each case, at least one of their choir teachers proved influential (Garrett & Spano, 2017; Palkki & Caldwell, 2018). Sara often spoke passionately about her first choir teacher—the one who left for another school district after her sophomore year. Even before Sara was Mr. Thompson’s student, he reached out and gave her a “pep talk” when he could tell that she was struggling with her gender identity at school. This extraordinary act of kindness played a large role in Sara’s musical life and in her gender journey. Jon’s relationships with his middle and high school choir teachers were tremendously positive—especially with Mr. Mullins, who had been a vocal advocate for queer students at Jon’s school and even with the state music education organization. Even after disclosing their gender identity and pronoun preference, Skyler’s teacher did not seem to grasp the concept of they/them/their pronoun use, which did not bother them.
Policies
As illuminated in this study, some music organizations’ policies lack inclusive approaches. While it is encouraging that teachers advocated for individual students’ needs, these data seem to indicate that school administrators and state music organizations can examine their policies and procedures to create more inclusive approaches and policies that can play a significant role in students’ educational experiences (Catalano, 2015; Fiorentino et al., 2018; Palkki & Caldwell, 2018; Schmidt, 2019). For example, Jon’s teacher Mr. Mullins was instrumental in having honor choir policies changed in his state and was supported by his state’s MEA lawyer, who referenced potential legal issues regarding the “gendered” honor choir audition policy. Sara’s choir teacher advocated for her behind the scenes before she attended the in-residence honor choir weekend regarding pronouns, rehearsal language, and overnight accommodations.
Implications for teaching practice
Name and legal logistics
Logistically, having one’s real name on school documents, transcripts, and test scores can help remove the necessity for a more complicated change process once the student is older and has more places with which to register their name (e.g., college/university, bank, department of motor vehicles). Music educators can inquire about name and pronouns on the first day of a term or upon meeting a new student. It may be helpful to have students write their name and pronouns on an index card so as to not force trans students to publicly “out” themselves.
Voice and gender identity
Based on the data in this study, choral teachers should not assume that students’ voices and gender identities are linked. When it comes to issues of voice and gender, there are no one-size-fits-all solutions. Some trans singers may revel in the fact that their voice does not match society’s notions of how their voice “should” sound (Zimman, 2014). Some trans people, however, consider the voice a vital way that they “do” their gender in society (e.g., Lipson, 2013).
Teachers can engage in clear, ongoing communication with trans students about this link and how it will influence what voice part they sing. This may result in a student singing a hybrid part for certain pieces/sections (e.g., switching back and forth between alto and tenor) (Palkki, 2017). Choral educators should bear in mind that if a student who identifies as FTM begins hormone therapy (testosterone), then a voice change will occur (Azul, 2016; Constansis, 2008, 2013; Sauerland, 2018).
Relationships with choir teachers
This research is important to help teachers understand how their advocacy can play a tangible role in the lived experiences of trans students. In this study, some teachers were instrumental in advocating for their students and advocated inclusive policies and practices. One was less so and that was impactful, too. Music educators can be prepared to use a student’s chosen pronouns in class. An increasing number of gender liminal people are using plural pronouns—namely, they, them, and their (Bennett, 2016; Wayne, 2005), rather than he and she (some use ze and hir). As a profession, it seems that, in general, there is great confusion and a great deal of unfamiliarity about incorporating trans students in choir. I have been involved with numerous threads in the I’m a choir director Facebook group 19 regarding which voice part trans students might sing. Observing these threads and others on social media has led me to believe that there is a large amount of misunderstanding, misrecognition, and confusion regarding trans issues among choral educators.
Policies
Especially for trans students, who disrupt the normative gender practices of American high schools (Pascoe, 2007), policies shape day-to-day experiences in a tangible way. Policies that fail to support trans students or explicitly restrict students’ gender expressions to the sex listed on their birth certificates can cause confusion and frustration, both among students and among the teachers who are meant to educate, protect, and mentor them 20 (Callender, 2008; Luecke, 2011; Meyer, 2010, 2014; Roberts et al., 2007; Sausa, 2005). Some relatively simple policy changes can make a difference in the musical lives of trans choral musicians.
Several policies could be examined when considering trans students and their experiences in the choral setting: (a) The vocal part assigned to, or chosen by, trans singers may influence and/or interact with their gender identity and expression, (b) choral teachers will need to decide how to accommodate trans and especially non-binary singers within “gendered” ensembles (e.g., men’s and women’s choruses), (c) choral teachers can reconsider the tradition of tuxedoes and dresses as the standard choral uniform, and (d) choral teachers may consider language that addresses sections, not genders. 21
Based on Sara and Jon’s stories, choral associations and music education organizations may wish to explore their honor choir audition policies (Fiorentino et al., 2018). For example, (a) rules specifying that only students of a certain gender can audition for a given voice part can be discriminatory to trans students, (b) gender isn’t a necessary data point for most honor choir experiences so organizations might consider not asking for it on their audition forms, and (c) binary uniform policies may not be appropriate for all students. Thus, officials may need to consider state education law and policies while examining how they run their honor choirs, including considerations about ensemble types/names (e.g., changing “women’s choir” to “treble choir”), voicing, seating, overnight accomodations, and uniforms.
The research questions for this study inquired about how students, teachers, school officials, and music organizations navigated trans gender identity in the choral context. An important finding is the link (or lack thereof) between a person’s voice and gender identity. For choral educators, this means that an individualized approach based on ongoing dialogue is necessary in assigning a trans singers a voice part in the choral setting. The importance of choral educators as mentors also illuminates how important music teachers can be in the socio-emotional development of music students. The emergent research question about policy indicates that schools, districts, and music organizations need to have policies that will honor trans students in the choral setting.
Suggestions for future research
As trans issues in choral music education are a relatively new frontier for researchers, sensitive research can increase our understanding of gender identity in the choral context. Qualitative explorations of trans choral teachers may illuminate different facets of gender in choir. Further exploration of the experiences of trans students, and non-binary and/or gender fluid students may help the trans community seem less monolithic. Specifically, there is a need to study trans students from different racial and socioeconomic groups. Studies of trans students exploring an intersectional approach could help address concerns of authors like Namaste (2000) who do not see many people of color represented in trans research.
The question of voice-gender identity connection is ripe for further exploration (Gurss, 2018; Lipson, 2013; Sauerland, 2018). A longitudinal study of trans singers at various ages could help illuminate this phenomenon. An ethnographic study of one or more of the burgeoning trans choruses in North America could help choral conductor-teachers understand the specific needs of trans singers who yearn for an inclusive environment. Researchers also could explore experiences of trans students assigned to a gendered choir that did not match their gender identity (i.e., a trans male in a “women’s choir”). In addition, much more research is needed to understand vocal health and pedagogy for trans singers. The work of Sauerland (2018) 22 and others will help choral educators understand the inner workings of the trans singing voice (Cayari, 2019) and how to best promote healthy singing for trans people.
Conclusion
Considering the delicate nature of gender identity and expression among teens (Grossman & D’Augelli, 2006; Hydén, 2013), narrative inquiry and ethnographic techniques seemed ideal tools to honor the lived experiences of the three participants. These students had important, rich stories to tell that may not have been shared otherwise. Their experiences illuminate new issues for consideration and multiple paths forward.
Transgender students exist everywhere (Rands, 2009)—including in school choral programs. It is my hope that this study will add to the ongoing discussion about how to include and honor all gender identities in the choral context. It is important that choral educators expand their notions about gender—away from a simplistic binary category toward a “gender-complex” (Rands, 2009) approach in which all choral students—cisgender, trans, genderqueer, questioning, and every other variation—can succeed.
Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The authors disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This research was funded in part by the dissertation completion fellowship from the College of Music at Michigan State University.